


Closed Change

by MistressKat, pushkin666



Category: Strictly Come Dancing RPF
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He hasn’t told anyone yet, but this will be his last year on Strictly. Maybe it’s time to stop being so goddamn careful and just take what he wants for once.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Internet, we’re sorry. Except not really. Many thanks to the long-suffering [dreamersdare](http://dreamersdare.livejournal.com/) for an excellent beta job. Title refers to the basic dance steps of the waltz. .

 

Craig is stressed. This is nothing new; being a regular on live TV means he spends a considerable amount of his hours operating at some level of stress, but tonight he’s being even snappier than usual, edging towards outright and indiscriminate _meanness_. And that could be a problem. They go on air in just over an hour and it might be bad form even for him to rip the celebrities to shreds this early in the series.

He’s leaning on the wall; arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other, watching the organised chaos backstage - watching Bruno if he’s honest with himself. The man is being his usual pre-show hyper self; bouncing around all over the place, chatting animatedly to everyone and checking out the dancers. He's been paying particularly close attention to some of the new dancers this year – not that Craig is surprised, the man does have an eye for beauty.

Craig sighs, pressing his lips together unhappily. Being back for the new season means he’s once more seeing Bruno every week, sometimes several times a week, and somehow it seems to be getting to him more this year than before. When he’d first met Bruno he had wanted to slap him silent – the man never shut up! – but over the years the urge has morphed into wanting to push Bruno against the wall and kiss him silent instead. And... well, Craig is self-aware enough to see where that would lead.

The way he feels about Bruno has for a long time been an almost abstract thing, just simmering in the background, never meant to really lead to anything except an occasional stray thought. It’s not because he doesn’t think Bruno wouldn’t go for it. It’s because he knows Bruno would – just like he has with all the others. Bruno never hides the way he flirts with everybody, sharing his affections freely, being very vocal about his appreciation of anyone who catches his fancy. Sure, Craig can count himself among those, but casual sex is not really his thing. In all the years on _Strictly_ he's been so good, never laid a finger on anyone and not for the lack of offers either. He knows better than to take anyone up on those, he has morals after all, doesn't want anybody trying to influence him, because sometimes that's exactly what people are hoping for. Craig’s no fool; he saw these games when he still danced himself.

But it doesn't stop him grinding his teeth whenever he sees Bruno happily playing along. And he knows full well that Bruno has done more than flirt and look; knows that Bruno has touched and been touched over the years, has gotten to recognise the sated look on Bruno's face, even though Bruno thinks he's hiding it on the shows.

Tonight the sight of Bruno falling over the dancers is testing his already fraying temper. Craig shakes his head, trying to clear it. Yet he can’t stop following Bruno with his eyes, watching how he flutters from person to person like some sort of butterfly; the solemn black and white of his tux and neatly pressed shirt in stark contrast to his personality. Craig knows he should stop staring, but he’s sick and tired of holding himself in check, of always doing the right thing.

He hasn’t told anyone yet, but this will be his last year on _Strictly_. Maybe it’s time to stop being so goddamn careful and just take what he wants for once.

  
***

  
Jared is talking animatedly, but Bruno is only half listening. Normally he would have been happy to chat – after all, he was pretty much the only familiar face the poor boy had this side of the Atlantic – but right now he had no patience for surfing talk. His attention has been steadily drifting toward the back of the room for the last hour – or, more specifically, to the man standing there.

Craig looks tense, almost angry. It’s more than just pre-show readiness, Bruno can tell that even from a distance. Over the years he’s become attuned to Craig’s moods and the way he’s leaning on the wall, muscles coiled tight, is not a good sign at all.

When Bruno had first met Craig he really hadn’t been sure about him. The man could be such a bitch on the show and Bruno had thought he'd be like that all the time so it has come as a surprise when that hadn’t turned out to be the case. Oh, the onscreen persona wasn’t entirely an act, Craig was standoffish off-camera too, but that wasn’t not all there was to him; he was also thoughtful and smart and almost scarily focussed. Craig was one of those people who knew what they wanted and just went for it; a man very much in control of his life. Couple all that with his undeniable hotness, and Bruno had been pretty much lost from the word go.

Unfortunately, the things Craig wanted and went for didn’t seem to include Bruno. He hadn’t exactly been shy about liking what he saw – he never was – and had even gone as far as outright flirting, but Craig had simply stared at him and said nothing. After that Bruno hadn’t tried again. Instead he’d settled for a friendship, well as much of a one as Craig allowed. It didn’t stop the wanting or the fascination – quite the opposite. It seemed prolonged exposure only made the problem worse; he’d even gone and bought Craig's autobiography and watched him on _Masterchef_ , despite hating cookery programmes on principle.

“...go tonight?” The questioning lilt of Jared’s voice draws Bruno back to the present.

Over Jared’s shoulder Bruno can see Robin dragging Patsy toward Craig with a determined look on his face and figures it’s high time to interfere.

“Excuse me,” he says, not even bothering to answer whatever it was that Jared asked, taking his leave with a quick: “Good luck!”

He steps neatly in front of Robin, stopping his progress before Craig notices his approach.

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘let the sleeping dogs lie’?” Bruno asks.

Patsy’s eyes dart from Bruno to Craig, before they go wide with understanding. She mutters something about needing to check her hair and wanders away. Smart, that one, Bruno always suspected.

Unfortunately, her partner isn’t as easily convinced. “Sorry, Bruno. I just need a word with Craig,” Robin says, with barely disguised irritation.

He tries to sidestep Bruno, which is his first mistake. When Bruno effortlessly blocks Robin again – they’re both dancers, sure, but one of them has two decades more experience – he looks down at him, sneering. That’s his second mistake.

“Get out of—”

“No.”

Robin actually blinks in surprise.

“The only person getting out is you,” Bruno continues, with a perfectly pleasant smile on his face. “It would be a very, _very_ bad career decision to insist on talking to Craig right now. So I suggest you take my well-intentioned advice, go find your partner and concentrate on your performance instead of continuing on this particular course of action any longer.”

Robin stares at him for a while before pivoting on his heels and striding off.

“There’s a good boy,” Bruno murmurs under his breath. He checks his watch and then glances toward the back wall, only to find Craig looking straight back at him intently.

Bruno feels like a rabbit caught in the headlights, frozen on the spot for a moment, but then he shakes himself loose and heads towards Craig. Maybe he can do something to calm him down, get him away from everyone – his mood is becoming more and more noticeable and it’s starting to affect the dancers. Bruno can see the increasingly nervous glances people are casting in Craig’s direction and it’s only a matter of time before the tongues start wagging. Perhaps he can talk Craig into having a drink, though not in the green room. Bruno very much doubts Craig is in any state to be around Len or Alesha at the moment.

Craig doesn’t move at all, not even when Bruno is standing right in front of him. He’s still leaning on the wall, looking unruffled and arrogant, except for the tension around his eyes.

“Craig,” Bruno says, trying to keep his voice light although it’s difficult. There’s something about the situation that makes him want to whisper, a strange sort of intimacy created out of sharing a relatively quiet spot amongst the chaos. He clears his throat. “What’s got you so wound up, my friend? Do you want a drink or something? You should try and relax.”

Craig goes very still for a few seconds and then he lifts his gaze and says: “And you want to do that; calm me down, get me all relaxed?” His voice is pitched low and he’s looking at Bruno like he can see right through him, into every secret hidden part of him. “Okay then, let's see if you can.”

Bruno swallows, shocked silent. There’s no way Craig can be saying what Bruno thinks he is. Can he? From anyone else the message would be unmistakable, but from Craig, who’s never, not once, shown any interest...

Bruno touches Craig’s sleeve surreptitiously, just two fingers briefly resting against the expensive material. “Do you want to come to my dressing room?” he asks.

There’s a pause – exactly three heartbeats, Bruno counts – and then Craig says: “Yes.”

  
***

  
Craig lets Bruno lead the way. It’s not the first time they've had a drink in one of the dressing rooms, though usually it's all of them. Luckily, the preshow jitters mean that everyone's attention is pretty firmly on themselves and no one gives them a second look as they duck away. They've got at least forty minutes until they have to be in their places behind the judges’ desk. No one is going to come looking for them for a while yet.

Besides, he's not yet a hundred percent sure they'll be doing anything more than having that drink. Oh he knows he could get more from Bruno, has known it from fairly early on. Bruno is pretty easy to read, doesn't make a secret about what or who he wants. Getting Bruno to bed had never been the problem; the problem was that unlike Bruno, Craig wasn't so good at separating work and... more personal relationships.

But this is his last year on _Strictly_. He's been thinking about it more and more; how it’s time to move on, do other things. And after this year there’s no guarantee he'll ever see Bruno again. Their circles aren't that closely connected, and while they are friends, sort of, it’s a result of circumstances and proximity more than anything else. Craig isn't so sure either of them would seek out the other's companionship without the convenient excuse of the show.

He watches Bruno as he walks behind him, both of them deftly weaving around the rest of the cast and crew. The noise fades to the background and it seems all he can hear is their steps, and the beating of his own heart. He wants Bruno. It’s almost a relief, to let himself think that. He wants Bruno, wants him on his knees, or pressed against a wall, wants to still his quicksilver movements, to make Bruno focus on him and him alone, instead of the hundred other things that constantly seem to be snatching at his attention.

Craig exhales slowly, stealing himself. This isn’t... it can't be... it’s for just this once, he reminds himself. Because sometimes you have to let yourself have what you want even when it's bad for you. There is no point in thinking this will be anything more than a way to relieve tension.

Craig almost believes himself.

  
***

  
As Bruno walks toward his dressing room he can feel the hair on the back of his neck rising, can feel Craig's eyes on him. It makes him nervous and that alone is rare enough to be remarkable. Bruno doesn’t get nervous. Well, of course he gets nervous, but he doesn't let people see it. But now... He doesn’t realise it at first, but he’s rubbing at his own forearms, like he’s cold. When he catches himself doing it, he stops immediately. It’s a nervous habit that he thought he'd managed to break years ago, but now he can't seem to help it.

Bruno digs his nails into his palms, trying to calm himself. What the hell is he doing here? Again he wonders if he’s reading this all wrong. Because if he is, he’s going to make a real fool of himself, but in a way Bruno doesn't even care. He'll just play it by the ear. If he's got this completely wrong he'll just offer Craig a drink. He always keeps a couple of bottles in his dressing room, and it's not as though he doesn't know what Craig likes to drink.

But if Craig really wants what Bruno thinks he does, then he's not going to say no – would never say no. He has wanted this for such a long time now. And he knows exactly what will calm Craig down too, knows what he wants to do. He wants to go down on his knees for Craig.

Even thinking about it makes his stomach clench with want.

Craig is so close that Bruno can almost feel his breath on the back of his neck. He tries to be cool about this, to be nonchalant, but it’s not easy. They finally get to his dressing room and Bruno nearly drops his key but manages to hang onto it and get the door open, even though his hand is shaking a little.

He opens it and steps inside. Craig is still close on his heels and Bruno shivers with anticipation and a little bit of fear as well. He almost can't believe that this may finally be about to happen. He’s not entirely sure _why_ or _why now_ , but he's not going to waste time analysing it; he wants it too much to really start doubting it.

Bruno walks further into the room and finally turns around. Craig has closed the door, shutting out the sound of the show behind them. It's quiet and before he can stop himself Bruno takes a step toward Craig.

  
***

  
“So you... want that drink?” Bruno asks.

Craig almost says yes, almost backs down and steps off this path he's already chosen. But there's an uncharacteristic catch to Bruno's voice; words slow and hesitant when Craig’s never seen him be either of those things. Bruno moves closer and Craig can see the nervous way he's licking his lips, and that's... yeah no, Craig doesn't want that drink, he really doesn't.

“No,” he says, stepping forward himself. He crowds Bruno, taking full advantage of his height and wider frame, the way he usually never does. Being a tall guy, a big guy, means he has to be extra careful with what he does with his body, and Craig considers it beneath him to use his size to intimidate someone. He’s got a sharp enough tongue that he can do that without even getting up from his chair when he has to.

But right now he uses every extra inch to his advantage, steps toe to toe with Bruno, forcing him to back down. ‘ _That's right_ ’, he thinks. It’s almost like dancing and they both know who leads and who follows right now.

  
***

  
It's weird that Bruno’s never realised quite how big Craig is until now. Oh, _intellectually_ he's known but he's never really felt it; never had Craig this close to him before. His skin prickles at the proximity and he fights his instinctive reaction to just fall to his knees. He’s hard though and Craig is so close that he can feel the heat coming from him. Bruno lets his glance wander downward, and _oh yes_ , Craig is hard as well, his erection pressing against his trousers.

Bruno knows he could do this the easy way; push Craig down into the chair and go down in front of him. But he doesn't want that. ‘ _Time for that later_ ,’ he thinks. Bruno wants to remember this, wants to feel Craig's presence looming over him. He very rarely likes to be stood over, to be overpowered even in height, but he knows he wants this with Craig.

So he places his hands on Craig's hips and steps back toward the wall. Craig follows him and Bruno keeps going until his back hits the smooth plaster. He looks up at Craig and holds his eyes for a few seconds. Then, in one smooth movement, he drops gracefully to his knees. He keeps his hands grasping Craig's hips for a moment and takes a deep breath, before moving to undo Craig's belt and his trousers. Bruno’s hands are shaking as he pulls the zip down. He can smell Craig now; the earthy muskiness of him, Craig’s cock hard against his palm as he takes him out.

  
***

  
Craig slams his hands against the wall for support. He lets his head hang down from between his arms, watching Bruno work his belt open, deft fingers unhooking and pulling until he has Craig's cock in his hand.

Craig hisses from between his teeth, hips jerking forward automatically. Bruno looks small and oddly vulnerable, trapped between the wall and Craig's body. The position can't be comfortable for him, and at some level Craig is surprised and curious that it's the one he chose. Craig may be pushing things a little here, but he doesn’t mean to be needlessly cruel, that has never been his thing. But it had been Bruno who pulled them to the wall, so here they are.

Bruno keeps his eyes down, focussed, and there’s that attention Craig had been wanting, all on him now. Bruno brushes his thumb over the head of Craig's cock, making him curse and moan. His other hand is rubbing soothing circles on Craig's hip and the top of his thigh, fingers coming back down to skim over his balls, massaging them. It feels good, fuck but does it feel good, and Craig takes a long shuddering breath.

This isn't what he was expecting; this slow, almost reverent way Bruno is touching him. This isn't how quick meaningless blow jobs in the dressing room go. Or maybe they do. Craig hasn't exactly made a habit of them, unlike Bruno who must be a goddamn expert.

The thought makes his mouth tighten in an angry line. He knew it was a bad idea, but it's way too late to back out now. Craig drops one of his hands down onto Bruno's head, fingers sinking easily into his hair, pulling.

“C'mon then,” he rasps, voice already shot. “Show me what you got.”

  
***

  
Bruno moans as Craig tugs at his hair; it’s something that has always turned him on. Not that he thinks it's likely he could be any more turned on than he already is. Just being here with Craig like this, the way Craig's voice is low and husky as he tells him what to do. _God_ , Bruno hasn’t felt this desperate in such a long time.

He leans forward eagerly. Sucking cock is one of his favourite things to do and Bruno knows he's good at it too. He wants to be even better for Craig, wants him to remember it. After all, Craig had said Bruno should relax him and he's damn well going to. Bruno breathes softly over the tip of Craig's cock, making him moan again as his hand tightens in Bruno's hair.

Bruno flicks the tip of his tongue over the head, tasting, and then slowly wraps his lips around it. The skin feels soft and Craig’s cock is hot and hard in his mouth. Bruno keeps his right hand tight on the base while his left hand grips Craig's hip. He’s shaking with want and need, and he closes his eyes, preferring to concentrate on his other senses. He savours the feel and taste and smell, his toes curling inside his shoes at the sounds Craig is making above him. Bruno takes him in deeper, almost giddy with the knowledge that it’s _him_ that’s causing Craig to lose control like this.

  
***

  
God, he was right; Bruno _is_ an expert at this; sucking cock like a pro, his tongue wicked and teasing, rubbing him just the right way, hand moving in time with his lips. “Fuck, oh fuck,” Craig curses, words tripping over each other, jumbled and breathless.

He tries to be careful, not to push in as hard as he wants, to keep his hips from snapping forward, but Bruno only moans around his cock, head tipping up to accommodate the angle, the hand at his hip pulling and urging him to go faster. It’s taken seven years for Craig to make a move, but it sure as hell won't take him nearly that long to stop resisting this and start fucking Bruno's mouth in earnest. It’s like opening a dam; once you give in to one thing, the others quickly follow. He already knows he wants to fuck Bruno, wants to hoist him against the wall and hold him there while he presses between his legs. He thinks he could do it; Bruno is not exactly a small guy but he is compared to Craig. It would be easy enough to lift him up and spread him open.

Bruno makes a choked moan; Craig's pushed in hard and deep enough to hit the back of his throat. He starts to pull back, but Bruno brings both hands up, wrapping them around his thighs, holding him there. He looks up, and there's something wild and a little desperate in his eyes, like he doesn't want Craig to ease up, like he wants him to just go for it.

Craig curses again, biting out something that sounds an awful lot like Bruno's name. He cards his fingers through his hair, almost soothing. “Okay, okay,” he says, “That's it, open up,” and then he tightens his grip, holding Bruno's head still, as he fucks his mouth in short brutal thrusts.

It doesn't take long after that. Even Craig’s self-control has its limits and the sight of Bruno on his knees, making little mewling noises that are barely audible over the obscene wet sounds of Craig's cock sliding in and out of his mouth is more than he can hold out against.

“Fuck,” he says, “Fuck, I’m gonna...” He tries to pull out again, though he doesn't know which is less polite; coming in someone's mouth without permission, or coming all over their face and tux twenty minutes before they're due to go on live television.

In the end Bruno makes that decision for him; rubbing his tongue hard against the underside of Craig's cock just at the right point and pressure. Craig comes with a long moan that he tries, and mostly fails, to stifle against his own forearm.

  
***

  
Bruno can taste Craig at the back of his throat and on his tongue. His jaw is a little sore but it feels really good too. Bruno rests his head against Craig's thigh for a moment, but then Craig steps back from him. He watches as Craig zips up his trousers, tucking his shirt inside and smoothing his hands down over his trousers. He’s not looking at Bruno and for a moment a flicker of worry goes through him.

But Craig is already pulling him up. “Your turn,” he tells Bruno. His voice is louder now and it seems harder somehow, almost like when he’s in front of the cameras and Bruno wonders what the hell is going on.

Craig turns him so he's facing the wall and then he's stepping close, pressing up against Bruno's back. Bruno instinctively leans back and Craig catches his wrists, placing Bruno's hands on the wall above his head. “Keep them there,” he tells him.

Bruno swallows. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the sound of Craig's voice. He wants to see Craig's eyes, wants Craig to take his face in his hands and kiss him, but he doesn't say anything, just follows Craig's instructions. And then he gasps as Craig's hands come around his waist and unbutton his trousers, sliding the zip down, mirroring his own actions from earlier. He moans as Craig takes hold of his cock and starts to stroke it. The movements are harsh and he's leaning against Bruno's back, holding him in place.

It’s an uncomfortable position and Bruno is forced to balance on his toes, trying to keep steady. Craig is murmuring in his ear, the words dirty as they fall from his mouth. He’s calling Bruno a slut, telling him how much he knows Bruno wants this, how he sounds. And it hurts a little, but Bruno says nothing, just drinks in the feel and scent of Craig against him, his hand rough against Bruno’s cock.

Craig twists his fingers, a little mean and just right, and Bruno is coming, his cries muffled by the hand that Craig quickly clamps over his mouth. He shudders through his orgasm and then leans back against Craig, seeking support. There is none to be found though; the warmth is gone from his back as Craig steps away from him. Bruno turns around and slumps against the wall.

Craig is cleaning his hand fastidiously on a handkerchief. He looks up at Bruno, his gaze fixed and mouth tight. “You should tidy yourself up,” he says. “We're due on stage in about ten minutes.”

With that Craig turns around and leaves, closing the dressing room door softly behind him.

Bruno shivers, feeling cold in a way that has nothing to do with his open clothes. He lets his head drop back, thumping against the wall. “ _Merda_ ,” he says to the empty room. “That went well.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Just because you don’t ask for something, doesn’t mean you don’t want it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay with this second part. The third and final instalment to follow sometime over the next months. Beta by the brilliant and long-suffering [dreamersdare](http://dreamersdare.livejournal.com/), her trauma is our gain. <3 Fans of the show may recognise Craig and Bruno's on-screen spat, the RL dialogue was too good not to use...

Craig closes the door and walks the short distance to his own dressing room, keeping his face passive, not looking around and _definitely_ not looking back. He doesn’t want to talk to anybody right now.

It might have been a cowardly thing to do, but he had needed to get out of Bruno’s room; it must have been all over his face how much he’d wanted to kiss Bruno. But getting blown by your colleague is one thing and kissing them is something else entirely. What he can’t get out of his mind, however, is how Bruno had looked on the floor; used and turned on. It’s a sight he could get used to seeing, every day if possible, but he knows it wasn’t exclusively for him. Craig knows that Bruno must have looked like this for all the others before him, will look just like this for the ones that come after.

Once he’s safely inside his room, Craig takes a moment to collect himself; checking his make-up in the mirror and running his hands through his hair. There’s no point on dwelling on what didn’t happen and he should just enjoy the after-effects of what did.

Craig flexes his shoulders experimentally. He _is_ feeling a lot more relaxed now; his body looser and the tension gone from his shoulders. His mood has lifted as well and he knows it’s not just because of the blowjob, good as it was. It’s because it was Bruno giving the blowjob, not some random person.

That thought carries him all the way to the studio and to the judges’ table. Craig settles back and waits for the dancers. He’s not going to let anything annoy him tonight, not even Ann. It’s only when Len gives him a strange look that he realises he’s humming. He doesn’t really care through.

It’s a good show, although Bruno is oddly quiet, bitchier than normal too, and afterwards he declines to join the rest of them for a drink. Craig is a bit surprised by that, wondering if Bruno’s strange mood has anything to do with him. He feels a twinge of guilt about turning Bruno to face the wall while he’d jerked him off. But there had been no way he could have looked Bruno in the eye during it and not taken it further. At least he got Bruno off, rather than leaving him like that.

Craig is feeling a little angry at himself though. He’d hoped it would help, like scratching an itch; just do it once and get it out of his system. But it hasn’t. If anything, their brief encounter has left him wanting Bruno more, not less. It had been a stupid thing to do, but he can’t really regret it. Can’t blame Bruno either; the man had done exactly what he’d promised; a little relaxation before the show. Craig won’t – _can’t_ – ask for anything else.

But just because you don’t ask for something, doesn’t mean you don’t want it.

  
***

  
After the show Bruno makes his excuses, telling everyone he’s arranged to meet some friends elsewhere. That’s a lie. He really just doesn’t think he can sit down with Craig and have a drink and a laugh and act like nothing happened.

It had taken every ounce of his professionalism to keep himself together during the show and it’s a relief to get home and be in his own space. He heads straight for the shower, stripping clothes on the way and leaving them where they land. He turns the water as hot as he can stand, stepping under the spray.

How could he be so stupid; thinking it had meant something, being so damn happy about it. He hadn’t understood why Craig had finally taken him up on the offer – still doesn’t – but actually being able to touch Craig, to hear the sounds he’d made... Bruno groans, closing his eyes and bracing himself against the slick tiles. Craig is always so controlled, so self-sufficient, so to see him let go... it had felt like some sort of privilege.

God, he’s an idiot. Bruno turns the water off, slamming the shower door shut behind him. He grabs a towel and runs it over himself, his movements harsh and perfunctory. He’d finally gotten what he'd wanted for years only to have it backfire on him like that. Craig had so clearly not even been bothered about what had happened; jerking Bruno off at the end almost as an obligation, rather than because he’d wanted to.

The flat feels cold, quiet apart for the distant sound of the lift. Normally, Bruno would put on some music and lose himself in it, but tonight he sits in silence, nursing a drink. The way Craig had left him, not even looking him in the eye, like he was ashamed... The memory burns as bitter as the mouthful of grappa he swallows, grimacing at the taste. The only thing missing had been Craig throwing down money on his way out.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt this used.

  
***

  
“And we’re off air.” The announcement comes through Craig’s earpiece and he immediately relaxes. Next to him Len and Alesha are laughing about something or another, not that Craig cares.

He gets up, already stripping off his mike, his gaze automatically drawn to the left to check on Bruno. He’s been noticing how much quieter and withdrawn Bruno seems to be off-set; not coming to the bar to socialise or joking around like usual, not even flirting with the dancers backstage.

It’s been a few weeks since their... Craig doesn’t quite know what to call it. Encounter? He’s made a concentrated effort not to treat Bruno any differently than before, trying to show that nothing has changed, not doing anything that would make Bruno uncomfortable. Craig has been careful not to assume anything, not to act like he had any sort of claim on Bruno.

He doesn’t understand why then Bruno is acting the way he is; avoiding Craig like he has some sort of contagious disease. It wasn't noticeable in the shows – Bruno is a professional after all – he was as exuberant as ever there, but as soon as the cameras stopped rolling it was a different matter. Even Alesha had commented on it, which was saying something. She was usually too focussed on herself to notice anyone else.

Craig watches as Bruno walks away. He seems smaller, dimmer somehow – like someone had switched off the lights.

  
***

  
Craig is being completely out of line tonight; making petty comments and giving ridiculously low scores. Bruno tries not to let it get to him, focussing on joking with Alesha and keeping his own criticisms at least constructive.

It’s not working though. He doesn’t know if it’s the non-situation between them, but Craig is really getting on his nerves tonight. Bruno just wants to disagree with absolutely everything Craig says, even when he secretly thinks he has a point.

He’s aware that they’re probably coming across like a couple having an argument – hah, irony – but Bruno just can’t help himself. He finally snaps when Craig calls Jimi pigeon-toed, and before he even realises what he’s done, he’s out of his chair and interrupting Craig’s comments.

Len, Alesha and even Bruce are staring at the two of them with wide eyes, but Craig only regards him with a cool, disdainful gaze that makes Bruno want to smack him right across his smirking face.

“Sit down,” Craig says, “When I want your opinion I’ll ask for it.” He doesn’t raise his voice, like Bruno is not even worth getting angry with.

That hurts, more than Bruno expected, and he lashes back with the first bitchy come-back that pops into his mind. “Well excuse me, _Joan Crawford,_ ” he spits out, but sits back down, crossing his arms.

The rest of the show passes without incident, but Bruno is still simmering. As soon as they’re all backstage he rounds on Craig, stepping right in front of him.

“'What the hell is your problem tonight? You're not just being critical, you're being cruel!”

Craig stares at him for a few long seconds, face completely blank. Next to them Alesha and Len are holding their breath, undecided whether they should try to intervene. Normally, Bruno would feel bad for having what suddenly feel s a very _personal_ argument in front of the others, but he’s unwilling to back down even long enough to take this somewhere more private.

“Well?” he demands, looking Craig straight in the eye.

“Don’t worry,” Craig says. “You don't have to put up with it for long.”

Bruno blinks, thrown off balance. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“It's quite simple really, Bruno.” Craig smiles down at him. It’s not a pleasant expression. “This will be my last season on _Strictly_. Pretty soon I’m not going to have to put up with any of this anymore. And _you_ ,” he looks at Bruno, eyes absolutely flat, “will no longer have to put up with me.”

Bruno takes a step back. Craig's words are like a slap in the face and he doesn't know what to say, couldn’t get the words out past the tightness in his chest even if he did. Bruno glances over at Len and Alesha, both of whom look as stunned as he feels.

Craig doesn’t say anything else, just stares at Bruno for another heartbeat or two, before turning on his heel and walking away, slow and unconcerned.

  
***

  
Len and Alesha are left staring at each other, wondering what the hell just happened. First Craig had made his announcement and flounced off, and then Bruno had left as well.

“Is it me,” Alesha says, “or did that look just like a domestic?”

Len shrugs, but doesn’t comment. He pretty much agrees with her assessment but he isn’t going to discuss it further; he’s known Craig and Bruno for a long time and talking about them with someone else, even Alesha, feels too much like a betrayal.

Len fully intends to get to the bottom of this though. It’s been clear to him for a while now that something has been going on between Bruno and Craig, but he’s never seen the pair blow up on stage like they did tonight.

He’s shocked by Craig’s revelation as well. He knows how much Craig enjoys doing _Strictly_ and it’s a surprise to hear that he’s leaving. Bruno might think he’s good at hiding how he feels but he really isn’t, especially when Len has spent as much time with him as he has, both on and off the screen. He’d caught the look of hurt cross Bruno's face as Craig walked away, before Bruno could hide it.

He has his suspicions about what might be going on but he needs confirmation before deciding what to do about it. He wishes that Arlene was still here because there is no way that he's going to talk to Alesha about what he thinks might be going on. She's about as discreet as _The_ _Sun_.

He smiles pleasantly at her though. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s probably just work stress getting to the pair of them. You should go and get changed for the results show. We don’t have that much time to spare.”

Alesha looks like she knows exactly what Len is doing, but after a hard stare at him she leaves, letting him get away with the obfuscation.

Len sighs in relief. This will buy him some time to find out what’s going on with Craig and Bruno. This kind of tension can’t continue. Len cares for both men, considers them his friends. He doesn’t want to see them sniping at each other like this. There’s always been tension between the two of them, but in a good way, not like this.

Len's gotten to know Bruno well over the years, both on _Strictly_ and _Dancing With the Stars_ , and he hasn’t been himself over the last few weeks, too quiet by half. Len’s pretty sure he’ll find Bruno in the bar later and if he pours enough alcohol inside him, Bruno will start talking.

Len can think of better things to do with his evening than play Dr. Phil to a middle-aged man acting like a teenager, but that’s what friends are for.

  
***

  
Craig holds the façade all through the results show, through the well-wishing and back-slapping that follows, and through the seemingly longer-than-normal walk to his dressing room, nodding pleasantly at the people he meets on the way. He shuts the door behind him quietly, movements precise and controlled. And then he does something he hasn't done in a very long time, not since he was a young man yet unused to channelling his emotions into his work, keeping a check on them: he takes a deep shuddering breath, teeth clenched, and on the exhale he slams his fist to the wall, the impact jarring the bones of his hand.

It hurts; the pain dull and reverberating up his arm, but it’s still not strong enough to drown the stupid empty ache in his heart. Craig shakes his hand – nothing broken – and ignores both. After tonight's show he really doesn’t regret his decision. The tension between himself and Bruno seems to be getting worse. Now everyone knows about Craig leaving the show. It had been worth it just to see the shocked look on Bruno's face, to actually silence Bruno for a change.

Staying around for the usual drinks is out of the question tonight. Craig takes a taxi home, relieved to be alone, not having to worry about hiding how he feels. He walks to the bathroom and methodically cleans his hand, the antiseptic stinging his scraped knuckles. In the kitchen he bypasses the opened bottle of wine on the counter, going straight for the whisky and pouring himself a generous glassful.

Craig puts the stereo on automatically, but the music only makes him more irritable and soon he’s forced to turn it off again. The room is plunged back to silence, the streetlights outside the window the only illumination.

Craig sips his drink, staring blindly at the wall. He'd been a right arsehole tonight, but it's like once he started he couldn't stop. It was unprofessional to let his feelings affect him like this, acting like a stroppy teenager. He knows he owes an explanation, probably an apology to some people, but that will have to wait. It was better that he’d left when he did, before causing more damage.

It had been all he could to keep his expression cool, to stop himself from pushing Bruno up against a wall and do one of two things; hit him or kiss the breath out of him. Of course it had to be Bruno who’d challenged him, no huge surprise there after the way he had been sniping at him during the show. Craig had tried to stay calm, but every time he’d looked over and seen Bruno draped over Alesha, he’d felt his patience fray a little more.

Logically, he'd known that things had to come to a head eventually and in some ways it had been almost been better for it to happen like this; the presence of cameras had at least prevented him crossing lines other than good manners.

Craig sighs and takes another mouthful of his drink, the burn of alcohol almost comforting in its own way. Weeks of watching Bruno act like nothing had happened one minute and then acting like he was mad at him the next, even though Craig had been so careful not to do anything untoward... It had gotten to him, of course it had. He’d thought at the time that Bruno had wanted it; it had after all been Bruno who’d approached _him_.

And now Craig can't stop thinking about how Bruno had looked on his knees, how his mouth had felt, hands stroking his skin... It had always been difficult to watch Bruno and not touch, but it was turning out to be ten times harder after he'd had what he wanted and then had to give it up.

It’s been getting more and more difficult to control his urge to just reach out, wrap his hand around Bruno's arm, pull him close and – But he can't. Well no, he _could_ , so very easily, but he shouldn't, _mustn't_. And so far he hasn't. So far he's managed to keep himself under control, but he's not sure how long that will last.

Craig smirks at himself, bitterly amused. Most days he feels like he's two steps away from biting the back of Bruno's neck, or something equally drastic and ridiculous; striking a claim. And yeah, that probably wouldn't go down so well.

He drowns the rest of his drink. Leaving really was going to be the best thing to do, for everyone concerned.

  
***

  
Bruno’s hand tightens on his drink and he takes another mouthful, swilling it around in his mouth before swallowing. He looks around the bar; everybody seems to be enjoying themselves, celebrating after another successful show. Everyone but him, that is.

Bruno is still reeling from Craig’s revelation. It had been difficult for him to keep it together for the filming of the results show, but he’d managed. For the first time this season he’s grateful that there’s no dance-off between the bottom two pairs. Grateful that all that’s required of him is a few general comments and nothing more.

He can’t stop thinking about what Craig said, how he’d looked; so cold and emotionless. And he wonders how much their _liaison_ might have contributed to Craig’s decision to leave. How long has Craig been planning this? He takes another mouthful of his drink. It’s like the chicken and egg, he thinks: _Did Craig have sex with Bruno because he was leaving, or is he leaving because he had sex with Bruno?_

But it’s not the kind of question he could ask, certainly not one he had any right to ask. Besides, Len and Alesha had both been there.

Bruno signals the barman for another drink. He knows he’s well on his way to getting drunk and he doesn’t care. Sitting here and getting plastered is better than going home to an empty flat. At least there’s background noise here, other people. He’s already done enough sitting in the dark and thinking about Craig – seems like that’s _all_ he’s done since that day in the dressing room.

Sometimes, Bruno wishes he'd never made that offer to Craig. Before, he had no way of knowing if what he was imagining was real or not. Now he has _memories_. And that’s all he's going to have.

Craig has been polite, professional and non-committal since then. At least until tonight that is, and now Craig is leaving. It had been stupid to wish it would be more than a one-time deal, especially with the way Craig had acted at the end of it. But god help him, he _had_.

Still does. He wants to wake up next to Craig each day, to learn his likes and dislikes, how his mouth tastes when he’s smiling. He wants to have the real Craig; the one that the public doesn’t get to see. He wants to share a hotel room on the live tour, argue over the pros and cons of syncopation and dance with him, on and off the dance floor.

Bruno shakes his head at his own idiocy. He’s being pathetic; those things only ever happen in Hollywood movies, not in real life. Certainly not in his. He takes the newly filled glass from the waiter and settles back into his seat.

  
***

  
When Len gets to the bar it's buzzing. Alesha is in one corner laughing with some of the dancers. Craig is nowhere to be seen and Len presumes that he's probably not stayed around for the after show drink, which in his opinion can only be a good thing tonight. He looks around for Bruno and sees him slumped over his drink in a booth. One of the techs is hovering nearby clearly trying to engage him in a conversation, but Bruno gives him an uncharacteristic brush off. It's not like him to refuse socialising.

Len has gotten drunk with Bruno before and he can recognise just how far along Bruno is. It will probably only take a few more drinks to loosen his tongue. Len fetches a couple of whiskies from the bar, and the remainder of the bottle of grappa that Bruno has clearly already started on. He considers grappa one of the most disgusting things known to man, but he knows it's what Bruno will want.

Len slides into the booth opposite Bruno, not bothering to ask if he can join him. There are few advantages to his age but this is one of them. He puts the drinks down on the table. Bruno says nothing, just accepting his presence, almost as though he was expecting Len.

They chat for a while, Len keeping the conversation light, not really talking about anything particularly serious. Eventually the conversation wanes and it's the moment he's been waiting for: "So,” he says, casual. “You've been quiet lately."

Bruno shrugs and mumbles something, not really answering. Len figures he may as well mention Craig if that's the only kind of response he's going to get.

"So what do you think of Craig's revelation?" he asks. "It's the end of an era isn't it? Once he's gone it will just be the two of us. First Arlene and now Craig – it's going to feel strange."

He pauses for a moment to take a mouthful of his whisky. Bruno is staring at him and Len wonders briefly whether to talk around it, before thinking _sod it_ , he's done prevaricating; time to provoke Bruno out of his reverie.

"So here's what I think is going on,” Len says, leaning forward to stare Bruno in the eye. “Stop me if I get it wrong. I think something happened between you two. Did you fight? Did you fuck? Did you fight and _then_ fuck, or was it the other way around?"

Bruno tenses up at his words. He says nothing, just grips his glass tighter, knuckles white.

Len reaches across the table and pulls the glass out of his hand. He tops it up with grappa and passes it back to Bruno.

"C'mon," he says. "Talk to me. What happened?" He can see Bruno struggling with himself, unwilling to give in. But then Bruno’s shoulders slump and he takes a shuddering breath, and Len knows he's got him.

Bruno smiles wryly. "There was no fighting," he says. "Perhaps it would have been better if there had been."

“Then what? Did you...?"

Bruno snorts. "Did we what? Fuck? No," he shakes his head. "Again, perhaps if we had it might have been better. No, what happened was that Craig... he wanted _relaxing_." Bruno spits the word out like it’s something bitter and foul-tasting. His mouth twists to one side, voice dropping until he's almost whispering. "And like a fool, I volunteered."

Len sits back, genuinely surprised. That doesn't sound like Craig, who’s not exactly the type to indulge in casual sex.

Bruno laughs at his expression, though there is no joy in it. "And you do you know what the worst thing was?” he asks. “For some crazy reason I thought he might actually _like_ me, that he came to me because he wanted _me_ , not just someone...” Bruno falters, finally going with: “ _convenient_.”

Len stares for a moment, confused. He can't quite believe he's hearing this. Bruno can't be that dense can he? "Craig _does_ like you," Len tells him. "Bruno... I know he does. That’s why he hasn't made a move in all these years. If he did now... I don't know why, but there is no way it meant nothing to him."

Bruno shakes his head. "No Len, you’ve got it wrong. Craig wanted somebody who knew what they were doing and wouldn't put any pressure on him. He hasn't even mentioned it since and now he's leaving. So what does that tell you, Len? Because to me that sounds like a textbook definition of a one-night-stand."

Bruno lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Except in my case I wasn’t even good for one _whole_ night.”

Len rolls his eyes, exasperated. He’s getting way too old to play agony aunt for two grown men who are certainly old enough to know better by now. "What it tells me is that you are both idiots," he says. "Did Craig tell you that he only wanted some no strings fun? Did he actually say that it meant nothing? Christ, Bruno, you should know by now that with Craig what he _doesn't_ say is as important as what he does."

Len leans forward. He wants to shake Bruno, but settles on gripping his arm. "You know what Craig's like. Unless it's about finding fault in someone's dancing, the man is like a clam about his feelings. And you," he points a finger at Bruno, "You lavish your attention on everyone. Equally. Tell me," Len says, his voice kind now, although a little annoyed as well. "Have you said or done anything to let Craig know he's any different from all the others? Anything that would make him believe that he stands out from your adoring masses?”

Bruno looks at him for a moment before answering. "He said to see if I could help him relax. I didn't get that wrong Len. I know I can be a little over the top at times, I like flirting with people but I've never thought that was a bad thing. It's just fun."

Len watches as Bruno knocks back the rest of his drink. His shoulders are hunched and he twists the glass in his hand, staring at the bottom of it as thought it could give him the answers that he needs.

When he speaks next, his voice is so quiet that Len can hardly hear the words. "Do you... do you think I’m a slut, Len?” Bruno asks, not raising his eyes. “Is that what people think of me?”

"What? _No!_ " Len says, shocked. "Who said that? I didn't... Bruno, you know I didn't mean it like that, I only meant...'"

"What did you mean, Len?" Bruno looks... _small_ somehow, beaten.

Len sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. This is worse than he thought, Bruno is really hurting here, and if Bruno is hurting, then Craig must be too. What a mess. "I do not think you're a slut. No one who knows you thinks that. And despite what Craig might have said, he doesn’t either.”

“But you are flirty. And you have had your fair share of..." Len hesitates, trying to think of suitable words "...encounters over the years. Now, I’m not saying there's anything wrong with that. You’ve never let any of them affect your professionalism or sway your opinion as a judge. You’ve never let anyone affect you period."

Len sighs again, trying to explain himself as gently as possible, without hurting his friend. "You have fun, Bruno. But it seems like that's all you do, like that's all you're interested in doing. And Craig," he adds, "Craig is not exactly the fun-having type. Do you understand what I’m getting at?"

Bruno doesn’t say anything, but Len can see his words have made him think.

"This cold war between you isn't doing either of you any favours,” Len says, touching Bruno’s hand gently. “Go and talk to him, Bruno. Tell him how you feel. After all, what have you got to lose?"

Bruno stares at him for a moment and then pushes up from the table, stepping out of the booth. He sways and for a second Len thinks he's going to fall but then he straightens up. "I'm going home," Bruno says. "I'll see you next week, Len."

Len watches as Bruno makes his way unsteadily out of the bar, not stopping to talk to anybody. He wonders whether the conversation actually helped at all, but at least he’d tried. Anything else was up to Craig and Bruno.

  
***

  
Craig relaxes back in his seat and smiles at Arlene. It’s interesting how they’ve spent more time with each other since she left _Strictly_ than they had before. It hadn’t really been until after her departure that he’d realised just how much he enjoyed her company and her intelligent yet biting comments about other people in the industry.

They try and meet up as often as they can, although this is the first time he’s seen her since the season started. Craig knows he could have made time if he’d really wanted to, but he hasn’t exactly felt like socialising, hence the cancelled dinner dates. Arlene will only put up with that for so long though, so here he is, finally making the third meeting.

Craig likes Arlene’s house and always feels comfortable here. It’s amazing how often they just end up staying in the kitchen, one or two glasses of wine becoming two or three bottles. They talk about _Strictly_ now, although they didn’t for the first year after Alesha had replaced Arlene. It’s safer now though, and Craig finds her comments on the dancers entertaining.

“So…” Arlene plunks the wine bottle onto the table, expression stern. “I hear you’re leaving _Strictly_. What the hell, Craig? Why didn’t you tell me? Besides, you love the show. This doesn’t make any sense.”

Craig knew it was coming, he really did. Arlene keeps in touch with Len and Bruno, has known Bruno for years. He shrugs, equal amounts ashamed that she had to hear it from them and defensive over his decision. “I’m not really enjoying this series, Arlene. It’s been more… stressful than normal.”

“How so?” she asks, raising one well-manicured eyebrow.

“You know they’ve played with the format; neutered the judges in a lot of respects. The Sunday results show is pointless, we don’t even really need to be there. Thanks to the distilled idiocy of the voting public there are people going forward in the show who should be kicked out and good dancers with potential like Jimi going out when they should stay. And there’s fuck all we can do about it!”

Arlene hums thoughtfully, sipping her drink. This isn’t the first time she’s heard that particular rant. “That’s not all though, is it?”

“Well,” Craig shifts uncomfortably on the kitchen chair. “It doesn’t seem to be gelling so well with the judges this year.”

She says nothing, just continues to stare at him.

Craig runs his hand through his hair nervously. “Okay, so things have been difficult with Bruno. The new dancers have been all over him and you know what Bruno’s like, he’s enjoying it a little too much if you know what I mean. “

“That’s nothing new, Craig. It never used to bother you this much before. What’s different about this year?”

Craig stiffens up, realising he’s said way too much. “Never mind,” he says. “Forget I mentioned it.” He looks around the kitchen, casting desperately for another topic of conversation. It’s amazing how many cooking gadgets Arlene actually has.

The silence stretches for a few seconds, but then there’s a sharp breath as Arlene figures it out, as Craig feared she would. “Oh my God!” she exclaims. “You slept with Bruno!” She’s staring at him now, almost in glee.

Sometimes Craig really hates just how damned perceptive she is. He glares at her and takes a large mouthful of his wine, then glares again.

Arlene's expression softens and she stands up. She refills his glass and then lays a hand on his arm. “Oh honey,” she says, sympathy evident in her voice.

He doesn’t say anything. After all, what can he say? She’s got eyes after all, she knows how Bruno loves to flirt, has seen him flirting with Craig. He didn’t think Arlene knew how he felt though, he thought he’d kept his feelings close to his heart. Thought he was a better actor than that.

Apparently not.

Arlene sits back down again. “Why now?” she asks quietly. “I mean after all of these years, Craig. Why now? Is it because you’ve decided to leave the show?”

He looks down at the table and mumbles something too low for her to hear.

“What was that, Craig? Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

He really doesn’t want to discuss this, but he knows he’s not really going to have a choice. Will have to tell her something otherwise she’ll never give up. Craig tries to think what to say, but really doesn’t know where to start.

“Okay,” Arlene says, changing tactics. “By the look on your face I can tell things didn’t end well. Tell me how Bruno’s been since it happened.”

Craig shrugs and looks down at his glass. “He’s been fine,” he lies. Bruno hasn’t seemed fine at all – in fact, he’s been completely different from his normal self.

“Bollocks,” Arlene says. “I know Bruno well enough to know that he wouldn’t be fine after something like this. I know how he feels about…” Arlene stops herself, tapping the table with her knuckles, visibly annoyed. “So, tell me the truth. How is he?”

How can Craig describe how Bruno has been; how can he tell her how diminished Bruno seems these days, how he seems a faded facsimile of himself. Craig raises his eyes to her. “He’s been quieter,” he says. That’s no lie.

“Quieter. You don’t say,” Arlene huffs. “ You need to talk to him, Craig, for Bruno’s sake as well as your own. Don’t leave it like this. All it will do is eat away at you unless you say something. You know I’m right.”

Craig does. But knowing you should do something and actually doing it are two different things.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bruno takes a deep breath and straightens up. He’s not sure whether he's making a huge mistake, but if he is then at least he won't have to live with the consequences of it for long. Slowly, Bruno walks over to Craig and, for the second time in his life, drops to his knees in front of him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the last part is here. You’ve all been pining waiting for it, admit it. This has been a labour of love and we would like to express our gratitude to [moth2fic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic) for her excellent beta work on this last instalment. But fear not: there are plenty more Bruno/Craig bunnies running around in our heads so there may very well be more fic for these two... *g*

Things don’t improve over the next few weeks and by the time they make it to Blackpool Bruno is about ready to snap. The tension between himself and Craig has become more and more unbearable and he’s finally at the point where he’s seriously considering Len’s advice.

Bruno knows that they need to clear the air. He actually really likes the Blackpool show and doesn’t want it sullied by their bickering. The rehearsal earlier was uncomfortable and he’s had more than enough of sitting in darkened rooms, angsting over something he figures he isn’t going to get. He’s not fourteen anymore and he’d be happy to have the friendship back between himself and Craig if nothing else.

After rehearsals he goes back to his hotel room and freshens up before giving himself a talking to in front of the mirror. It’s sad, he knows it is but he doesn’t care. He’s going to confront Craig tonight and make him talk about the situation they’ve found themselves in. The one they’ve put themselves in.

Craig’s room is next door and Bruno knows he’s there. He can hear the shower going on and Craig moving around.  If he’s going to do this it needs to be now rather than later, before Craig goes out for something to eat or heads down to the bar for a drink, as he tends to do when they’re in town.

Bruno slips his room key into his back pocket and takes the very short walk from his room to Craig’s. He raises his hand and knocks on the door before he can lose his nerve.

Craig opens it almost immediately. He’s barefoot and dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt that looks worn and soft. For a moment neither of them says anything. Craig runs a hand through his messy hair and Bruno can't stop staring at his biceps. They’re normally covered with shirt sleeves and jackets so to see them like this feels almost obscene. The urge to just reach out and touch is strong and for a moment he imagines what it would be like to clutch them while Craig fucks him into a mattress, to have that bulk above him, leaning over him like before, but this time with time to savour it. Craig is big enough to just arrange Bruno any way he wants him, to simply pick him up and toss him onto a bed, and damn if that thought doesn’t make his breath stutter and palms sweat.

Bruno really hopes they might still get to that at some point in the future, that Craig might want something more than a one off. But none of that is going to happen unless they talk and that sure as hell isn’t going to happen in a hotel hallway.

“Can I come in,” Bruno says, and it’s not really a question as he doesn’t give Craig a chance to say no, just pushes past him into the room. 

***

For a brief moment Craig considers physically removing him, but the thought of some passing cleaner catching them grappling in the hallway like a pair of schoolboys doesn’t particularly appeal.  Craig sighs, quietly closing the door behind him and turning around to face the music, whatever that might be.

He’s is surprised to say the least. Bruno has been avoiding him for almost two months and _now_ he's here, mere weeks from the show being over the year. Craig doesn’t get it. He's been expecting Bruno to resume his former habits – flirting interspersed with casual flings – and when that hasn’t happened, Craig has been feeling equal amounts puzzled and relieved.

Relieved because he's not sure how well he could've maintained his facade of indifference if he'd had to watch Bruno carry on with someone else. It hadn’t exactly been a pleasant experience before and Craig has always been careful to cultivate a deliberate ignorance of details about Bruno's affairs. He suspects it would have been ten times worse now, after he's had Bruno for himself.

Standing in the middle of the room, Bruno looks small and tired, huddled in a jumper that's at least a couple of sizes too big. Craig gives him a critical onceover, pretty sure that Bruno has actually lost some weight lately, when he doesn't really have any to spare.

He wants to ask Bruno if he's alright, if he's eaten. Instead, he says nothing, just waiting, and fighting not to cross his arms defensively. If the tense line of Bruno’s shoulders is anything to go by he is clearly here to speak his mind and the least Craig can do is hear him out.

***

Bruno looks around. The hotel room is a mirror of his, but then all hotel rooms are pretty much generic.

 Bruno stares at Craig for a moment. It seems as though Craig isn't going to say anything so he presumes it's down to him. He’s been going over this again and again in his head, wondering quite what to say to Craig. He’d had it all planned out, the calm questions he was going to ask; why Craig was leaving, what he really thought of Bruno, what actually was happening on that day. But now that he’s actually here, looking at Craig, the words have gone out of his mind and he’s angry. Angry and bitter, and he just doesn’t care anymore.

He moves over to the door where Craig is standing, getting right up into his space, not caring right now how big Craig seems to be. 

“So, tell me,” he says. “Just tell me, Craig. Why are you really leaving the show? Is it because you no longer want to work with a slut like me? Is that what this is all about? Is that actually what you've thought about me for all of these years?” He’s shouting now, the words tumbling out of his mouth without him thinking about what he's saying. He pushes at Craig's chest but he doesn’t budge so Bruno pushes again. “Tell me Craig, did I live up to your expectations. _Did I?_ ”

***

Craig is shocked by Bruno's reaction, his anger, his words. What he's saying... god, _god_ , he never meant for this, for Bruno to think _that_. Bruno is coming towards him now and Craig thinks the pushing might actually escalate into punching soon and no matter how much good it might do for them to sort this out with fists, neither of them is much of a fighter. Besides, they have a live show tomorrow and turning up with matching black eyes would result in a media frenzy.

The next time Bruno pushes him, Craig catches Bruno's hands, holding them still against his chest, tugging the smaller man closer. Bruno opens up his mouth, presumably to shout at him some more, but Craig cuts him off with a quiet, “No.”

Bruno looks at him in confusion for a few seconds before he blanches, looking small and mortified. “Fine, let go, just...” He tries to pull his hands free, almost frantic now. “Let me go!”

“No, no, that's not what I meant,” Craig says. “Just … Jesus, will you listen and not take a swing at me if I let you go?”

***

 Bruno is beginning to shake now. He wasn't expecting this, wasn’t expecting it to be like this. He’s surprised that Craig has even touched him, even if it's just to stop him from hitting him. Not that he would get into a fist fight with Craig. Jesus, he's not that stupid.  Bruno realises just how close he is to Craig now, and he wants to just drop his head onto Craig's chest but he can't. He doesn’t have that right.

 “Okay,” he says, looking up. “You can let me go.” 

Craig doesn’t do it straight away, continuing to hold his hands for a few seconds before releasing him. Bruno steps back, rubbing his hands over his wrists.  They’re not marked which he’s oddly disappointed about. Craig is stronger than he looks, but then of course he _is_ a dancer, used to lifting people smaller than himself.

Bruno swallows at that thought and takes another step back looking for somewhere to sit. But there’s only one chair and that has Craig’s tux slung over it. Finally Bruno goes and sits on the bed. It’s better than standing. The mattress dips as he sits on the edge and stares at Craig, waiting for him to say something.

***

Craig runs a hand through his hair again, messing it further. His eyes track the way Bruno rubs his wrists, and he forces himself not to react when Bruno sits on the bed. It means nothing; simply the only logical place to sit. Craig takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. His choice of conversational method notwithstanding, Bruno has the right idea: they do need to clear the air here. He feels sick that somewhere along the line Bruno got the impression that Craig was disgusted, that his leaving had something to do with Bruno. Well it did, but not in the way that Bruno thinks.

Craig knows that what Arlene said is true, he can be as expressive as a rock when it comes to his feelings, how it can seem like he doesn’t have any. It’s hard though, breaking a habit of a lifetime. He doesn’t expect Bruno necessarily to like what he has to say, but it’s better than leaving him thinking that Craig was disgusted with him. Craig owes him that much, and if he makes a fool of himself in the process… well, he'll only have to put up with being a fool for a few more weeks.

Craig walks over to the mini-bar, more to have something to do with his hands than really wanting a drink. He opens a couple of the small bottles and pours them into two glasses, handing one of them to Bruno silently.

They drink. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it's not quite as bad as the unspoken tension that has been simmering between them for the last couple of months. Craig feels awkward standing around, but sitting next to Bruno on the bed is out of the question. Instead he scoops his tux off the chair, tossing it carelessly into the wardrobe. The hotel has a dry cleaning service; they'll get it sorted before tomorrow night.

He sits down, knowing that he has to break the silence soon, before Bruno gets tired of waiting and leaves – or decides to take a swing at him after all. Craig leans his elbows on his knees, eyes on his glass. “No, you didn't match my expectations,” he says finally.

There’s a hiss of breath and the sound of Bruno getting to his feet.

“Wait,” Craig says, holding up his hand, but not lifting his eyes. “Wait, that's not... you got it wrong,” he says. ”You didn't match my expectations, because you... it was... no, it felt like more to me. More than...” God he’s babbling now. Craig grits his teeth and forces the words out. “I didn't have any expectations. Or I did, but I was expecting it to be quick, efficient and meaningless. I was expecting it not to matter. To you.” He takes another drink, finishes what he started. “I was trying not to have it matter to me.”

***

Bruno stares at Craig for a moment. He's not quite sure he's hearing this right, but then he thinks back to what Len had said to him, how Craig doesn't do one-night stands. He places the drink on the bedside table and looks over at Craig who is still staring down into his glass as though he doesn’t dare look at Bruno.

Bruno takes a deep breath and straightens up. He’s not sure whether he's making a huge mistake, but if he is then at least he won't have to live with the consequences of it for long. Slowly, Bruno walks over to Craig and, for the second time in his life, drops to his knees in front of him.

“Look at me.” He touches Craig’s face, gently nudging his head up. “Please.”

 After a brief hesitation Craig does. “Did it?” Bruno asks. “Did it matter to you?”

“Yes, yes it did,” Craig says. “I always knew that it would, but I did it anyway despite my better judgement.”

Bruno blinks in surprise. “What do you mean you always knew? How long have you been thinking about this?”

Craig looks as if he’d do almost anything not to have to answer the question, but Bruno waits him out. They’ve committed to this path now and it’s too late to step off. No matter how difficult the discussion, they both know it needs to happen.

“Years,” Craig finally admits. “Pretty much since I first met you, but I didn’t want to risk being just another one night stand. You may have noticed that I don’t handle that well, never have. I always get too... emotionally involved.”

Bruno sits back on his heels, stunned. This is more than he expected and in the back of his mind he wonders how many drinks Craig’s already had tonight for him to be this free with his words.

There’s a self-deprecating twist to Craig’s lips and he’s holding the eye contact even though it’s clearly costing him.

“What makes you think it would only be a one night stand?” Bruno asks. “Is that all you think I can commit to?  Why do you get to choose for both of us? You’re not the only who’s been thinking about this. You don’t know what I want.”

 “Then tell me. What do you want, Bruno?”

Tentatively Bruno reaches out and brushes his fingers over Craig’s cheek. “You. Us,” he says. “For more than just one night. But right now, what I want is what I’ve always wanted. For you to kiss me and not walk away.”

***

Craig blinks, mentally shifting gears. Of all the things he might have expected Bruno to say that wasn’t one of them. He exhales sharply and leans forward, brushes his hands into Bruno’s hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Bruno’s mouth opens under Craig’s and he moans into the kiss. He’s pliable under Craig’s hands, pressing as close as he can. Things get heated fast and Craig is biting at Bruno’s lips, touching everywhere he can reach, now that he has the freedom to do so. He pushes his hands under Bruno’s ridiculous jumper, encouraging him up and into his lap. 

“You’ve lost weight,” he tells Bruno disapprovingly. He pulls the jumper off Bruno and tosses it to one side, running his fingers over Bruno’s ribs to demonstrate.  Bruno twists away, clearly ticklish, but comes straight back for another kiss.

“Off,” Bruno tells him, pulling at his t-shirt. “I want this thing off. Now!” His accent is thicker now, his voice gruff and Craig wants to make him sound like that all the time.

Craig growls a little and bites on Bruno’s shoulder. He hooks his arms under Bruno’s knees, heaves himself up with a grunt, Bruno clinging to him in surprise. He takes two staggering steps to the bed and topples them onto it.

He pulls back onto his knees, yanking his t-shirt off, grinning back at Bruno. “Patience,” he tells him.

Bruno huffs in surprise, half laughter, the breath whooshed out of him. “I can’t believe you just did that. You just swept me off my feet, didn’t you? Consider me so impressed.” He smiles and Craig can’t help smiling back, all the worry of the last few months falling away. “Besides, I’ve been patient for several months now,” Bruno tells him, wriggling out of his jeans.

“Fuck,” Craig breathes out, hands going to his own jeans and thumbing the buttons open.

Craig leans in to kiss him again, running his hands down Bruno’s sides, over his hips and down his thighs.  Bruno moans and shamelessly bucks up, his hard cock bumping against Craig’s stomach. 

“Hold that thought,” Craig tells him. He gets off the bed, kicking his jeans away before rummaging through his luggage for lube and condoms, packed out of habit rather than any real planning or expectation. By the time he turns back to the bed Bruno is staring at him, his eyes dark and mouth half open, stroking his cock.

“Hurry up,” Bruno says.

Craig narrows his eyes at him and bats Bruno’s hands away from his cock as he climbs back on the bed. He grabs his wrist and presses it onto the bed. “Let me,” he tells him.

Bruno spreads his legs, canting his hips up and Craig settles between them. “Yes please,” Bruno gasps.

Craig coats his fingers, slowly brushing them against Bruno’s hole until Bruno starts pushing back against them, crying out in pleasure. Craig presses the heel of his hand against his own cock, stopping himself from coming at the sight of it. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, to have Bruno like this in his bed.

***

Bruno never really thought in his wildest dreams that this would actually happen. He'd pictured it in his mind but it was nothing like the real thing.

Craig twists his fingers and Bruno whines, pushing himself back on them. Craig keeps talking, whispered endearments and filthy promises falling from his mouth in a continuous litany. Bruno lets the words wash over him, enjoying the feel of Craig's hands on him.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Craig is saying. “Look at you writhing on my fingers. One day soon I'm going to make you come just like this, just from my fingers, pushing into you and opening you up until you're begging me to allow you to come. But not today. Today I'm going to fuck you so damned hard you'll still feel it tomorrow when we're judging and I'll be watching to see whether you can sit still or not." He leans down. "I want you to be thinking about that when you're watching the dancers tomorrow, want you to be remembering how I felt inside you and to anticipate the ache of it when I do it again tomorrow night, and every night after that. If you let me."

"Oh god," Bruno gasps, because fuck yes, he wants that. "Please."

Craig grins down at him and the open edge of possessiveness in his smile makes Bruno’s breath catch, makes him clench hard around Craig’s fingers.

Craig’s eyes darken in response, his cock dragging wetly against Bruno’s hip. He presses Bruno’s legs wider, almost to the point of pain. And then, just when things look like they’re going to get _really_ good, he says something that causes Bruno to freeze.

“Such a slut, aren’t you?” Craig whispers, leaning close. “Such a greedy, eager slut.”

Bruno’s head jerks up, his hands gripping the bed sheets. He stares up at Craig in shock, not really believing what Craig has just said. The memory of their first time comes flooding back; the cold, detached way Craig had pushed him against the wall and brought him off, the shame of being left behind. It _hurts_ , to have Craig call him that now, after Bruno had told him he wanted something more, something different. He starts to pull away but Craig doesn’t let him.

“Hey, no, I didn’t...” Craig lays a hand over Bruno’s heart like he wants to hold it safe. “I love it,” he confesses. “To see you like this, wanting me, pushing for more.” He strokes a hand down Bruno’s cheek. "My slut," he says, his voice low. " _Mine_ , Bruno."

It’s a _claim_ , and maybe Bruno should be protesting that it’s too early for that kind of talk, maybe he should be calling Craig an arrogant bastard – and both of those things are true – but Bruno has never been very good at doing what he should, so instead he pulls Craig down until they’re kissing once more, all teeth and urgency.

***

Kissing Bruno is amazing. Fuck, just being allowed to touch Bruno is amazing. Craig can’t believe how close he came to fucking it up just right now though. The hurt look on Bruno’s face isn’t something he particularly wants to see again anytime soon.  But he hadn't meant it in a bad way. Bruno had looked so fucking hot moving against him, pushing onto his fingers.

Craig takes the opportunity to admire the view again. Bruno's head is thrown back, sweat beading on his throat and he is moaning softly as he continues to move on Craig's fingers.

He really isn’t prepared to wait any longer though and he doesn’t want Bruno to come before he’s inside him. Craig slowly pulls his fingers out, groping around on the bed until he finds the condom packet, pressing it into Bruno’s waiting hand.

Bruno doesn’t waste any time. He rips open the foil deftly and reaches between them. They both groan when he rolls the condom on, adding a wicked little twist with his hand that makes Craig swear and seize Bruno’s wrist, shoving it back to the mattress.

“Enough of that,” he says, and the way Bruno cants his hips up seems to indicate agreement.

Craig doesn’t ask if Bruno is ready, or if he’s sure – the answer to both is obvious. He just pushes in, hard and steady, not giving Bruno time to adjust, stretching him with his cock until he’s fully inside. Bruno groans and grabs at Craig’s biceps, nails digging into Craig’s skin. Craig likes that - the way Bruno is holding on to him, clinging almost.

He fucks him, deep and hard, revelling in the sounds it elicits. Bruno is noisy, which Craig fully expected. At some point he thinks it would be fun to gag Bruno, but not now. He wants to hear every moan, every broken gasp falling from his lips. Bruno’s head is thrown back and Craig leans down and trails his mouth down Bruno’s neck to his chest. He licks slowly around Bruno’s left nipple and then he bites gently, and then harder as Bruno groans loudly and lets go of Craig’s arms to clutch at the sheet beneath them.

“Harder,” Bruno pleads. "Harder, c’mon, I won’t break.” 

Craig takes him at his word and bites down harder on his nipple knowing that he’s leaving a mark and glad of it. He can feel Bruno tightening around him, the way that Bruno is shivering underneath him and he knows that Bruno isn’t far off coming.

“God, you look hot,” he tells him. “I’ve wanted to do this for years, have you under me like this.” He wraps a hand around Bruno’s cock, stroking him firmly.

That’s all it takes. Bruno arches off the bed, coming wetly between them while Craig kisses him possessively. He swallows Bruno’s moans and bites at his lips as he fucks into him, groaning out Bruno’s name as he comes.

They stay like that for a while until Craig finally pulls out and slowly collapses to one side. Quickly he takes care of the condom, tying it up and tossing it toward the wastebasket. They really need a clean, maybe a shower, but for now he’s content to lie back down and gather Bruno close, guiding his head to rest on Craig’s chest.

***

“I didn’t take you for a cuddler,” Bruno says and then immediately wants to bite his own tongue. He tightens his grip around Craig in case he gets the wrong idea and thinks that Bruno in any way disapproves of post-coital cuddles.

Which he doesn’t. Quite the contrary. It’s just... unexpected. He’s pretty sure Craig won’t kick him out of bed afterwards, not now that they’ve talked and are finally on the same page about this, but...

“Yeah, well. Better get used to it,” Craig says, his voice gruff, accent slipping through and broadening his vowels.

Bruno smiles and presses closer, throwing one of his legs over Craig’s. “Oh believe me,” he says, idly carding his fingers through Craig’s chest hair. “I plan on it.”

**Fin.**


End file.
